I like playing hooky. I always win.

So I really enjoy the idea that I can only post exactly what I want to say here. At my discretion I can tell you only the things I want you to know, and in doing so, force you to fill in the blanks. It’s exhilarating really, to think that you may have a completely different picture of me, painted in your minds, than what I actually am. For example, I tell you that I live in San Francisco, but not include any details. This allows you, the reader, to come up with your idea of how you think I live. Do I have roommates? What district am I in? How is the view? Bay windows? Carpet or hardwood? All up to you. But, I guess you’ll never know. However, not knowing does have it’s perks, doesn’t it? Isn’t it more fun to use your imagination than to have me describe every fiber of my existence in detail?

Today was quite splendid to say the least. I know that that was a terrible transition, but seeing as how it is so late, my literary genius has gone out the open window. Or is it a bay window? I’m only joking. But back to my day, how great it was, really. I woke up and decided that I needed the day off. I haven’t actually had one of those since beginning my new job. At the risk of putting you in imagination overload, I’ll tell you that I work at Williams-Sonoma. Now, for the great many of you who don’t know what kind of operation Williams-Sonoma is… I’m not going to tell you. Just Google it. Much easier. So I called in with some sob story about how awfully horrid I felt and what do you know, the general manager bought it. Nice, eh? So, I went back to sleep.

… … …

Ah, I awake to sunshine flooding in my window. It’s 11:00 am and I am ready to begin my fabulous day of leisure. I get into the shower, clean my body, wash and condition my hair, and cleanse my face. Now it’s time to prepare to leave the house. This step in the preparation process is more certainly the longest. Today especially since it consisted of shaving as well. Is this story taking too long? I’m beginning to feel as though I’m dragging on. Let’s make a long story a short one. I got all cute in my new coat from Zara and Indonesian silk scarf and headed downtown. I hit up Barneys, Neiman Marcus, Bloomingdale’s, Illuminations, and Jamba Juice. Peach Perfection and a sourdough parmesan pretzel hit the spot after some serious shoppage. I took my bags and my food and sat in Union Square for about an half and hour. Some weird band was doing covers of Christmas songs and everyone was all cherry and holiday-like. The sky was all cloudy and it was just cold enough to get everyone all bundled up. It was lovely, just lovely.

Following my excursion downtown I went home and decorated my apartment for Christmas. I still have no tree, [ my mother is working on that ] but I did manage to hang some garland and strings of lights around the window and door-frames. Anna came over and I made us some grilled cheese sandwiches, which happened to be extremely delicious. Then we did homework. The end.

Now I sit at my computer, pouring out my thoughts just as intellectually as possible. The only other light besides the computer screen comes from my Christmas lights and two vanilla candles. I’m so romantic, aren’t I?

Sometimes I wonder about my writing. Does it fill some sort of void or is it just piled upon the rest of the thoughts coming out of late-night brains? I think that goes for life as well. Do the things we do daily add another piece to the puzzle of our existence, to be put together in the end? Or, are we just one big mess? The latter seems to be the most plausible situation. The complexity of the individual is something that I will never grasp.

I received a nice phone call tonight. It was quite unexpected, but greatly appreciated. The caller was one such fellow I previously had very deep feelings for. To this day I care about him immensely and I think I will until I’m buried. Maybe after as well. A part of me will always wish that we could be together, but we’re friends, and I like that. He’s a good person. I know that I can count on him. I need people like that in my life, which makes me even more grateful. Sometimes I worry that I’ve been forgotten, or that I mean less to him than I would hope, but somehow he always seems to make me smile. We do this thing now, this phone thing. He calls. I don’t pick up because I’m at work. I call back. He answers, but is too busy to talk. I call again later. He doesn’t answer. He calls. I answer. We talk, finally. It’s a struggle, but well worth it. Is it bad that I miss him so much? I guess the real question is: Do I miss him, or just the idea of him? Sometimes I just want a strong chest to lay my head on. Ugh, let me go put on some sappy love music now. Only joking, I’m listening to the city. People on the street make a great headliner for the evening.

“We never change, do we? We never learn, do we?”

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